


Russian Roulette

by Tassledown



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Food, Gen, Human Names Used, Mindfuck, Minor Body Horror, Nazi Germany, WWII, depressing fic, reference to loss of limbs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-13
Updated: 2014-12-13
Packaged: 2018-03-01 07:04:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2764091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tassledown/pseuds/Tassledown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prussia is persona non grata at the National Socialist political events after the dissolution of his free state but he refuses to leave his brother alone at the mercy of a government trying to tear him apart. The battle for his brother's mind and soul is so much more delicate than the ones he's used to and he's terrified he's losing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Russian Roulette

**Author's Note:**

> Got this idea while listening to "Russian Roulette" by Rihanna, re: governments and their Nations

Gilbert hadn't smiled so much since the turn of the century. It was an interesting experience.

There were dozens of people in the room. He traded wine glass for wine glass, making small talk about the city and the politics and sometimes about the war. He was a Colonel today. The uniform was black except for the red armband on his left.

He wanted to cut his arm off.

Across the room was the reason he was here. Blond and tall, Ludwig was dressed in the same black uniform, different only in rank. The same red armband rested against his side, and moved as he gestured to talk, as he took up glasses and food. He was talking with other men in black and moved and laughed like he was happy to be there.

Gilbert circulated the room, but never went close enough to talk to him, never spoke of more than he had to with people around him. 

When Ludwig left the room, Gilbert excused himself and followed.

Outside, Ludwig leaned on a car by the front door. Gilbert joined him tersely. He got into the driver's seat of the car; Ludwig took the seat next to him. 

It was a long drive to their house, but neither of them spoke. Once inside, Gilbert stripped in the front entry without a word. Ludwig walked past him to go upstairs to his room. 

Gilbert pulled the black clothes off the ground, leaving the red armband behind. He stalked upstairs and hung them over the railing for Ludwig to handle later.

Gilbert stopped himself, went back and took them into his room. He folded them, hung them up and tucked it into the back of his closet. He leaned his head on the wall, but convinced himself he didn't need to shower before he changed into casual clothes, something he could lounge in downstairs.

When he got downstairs, the armband was gone from the front entry and Ludwig was in the kitchen, looking at reports.

“Hey,” Gilbert said. “How did it go?”

“It went well. Thank you for coming.”

“You know I wouldn't leave you to deal with that alone.”

Ludwig nodded cautiously at him, his face careful not to ask. Gilbert smiled painfully and eyed the cupboards. 

“They give you really good ration packs, huh?”

“Yes.”

“Of course they do. I forget that sometimes.”

“Yes. It's good that they do, or you wouldn't have enough to eat, now that they refuse to accept you exist.”

“Because they dissolved me,” Gilbert growled, then cut off his anger. He made himself relax and pulled down food.

“You could have eaten at the meeting.” 

“You and your Generals were by the food, remember?”

“I'm sorry, I'll try to get them to move next time.”

Gilbert shook his head. “I don't want you to worry about me.”

Ludwig sighed. “You should worry about yourself. I'm fine, they're taking good care of me.”

Gilbert slammed a cup into the counter. Ludwig flinched and dropped his eyes. Gilbert didn't say it, not then, pouring himself water and getting out bread. He tried to think of what to put on it and gave up and ate it plain.

“I don't need to worry about myself,” Gilbert said. “I'll live. I'm not dying, Ludwig. It's more than we can say about your people.” He kept his tone conversational, flat.

“It's just a war.”

“It's not just a war.”

“I don't understand.”

“Did you forget again or are you not wanting to understand?”

Ludwig's silence was large in the kitchen. Gilbert finished his cup and turned to lean on the counter and face him. 

“Where is my government, Ludwig?”

Ludwig sorted his papers as he recited his rote answer. “The Prussian free state was dissolved for... failure to manage its population.”

“For being Social Democrat under a National Socialist government. For holding 60% of the vote. For being in their way.”

“I remember,” Ludwig said quietly.

“You had to get me out of Dachau.”

Ludwig nodded. He held his pen tightly, changed hands and flattened his right hand out on the table, studying his fingers intently. “You killed two of the police. They were just doing...”

“What they had been told.” Gilbert stepped up to the table and put his hands on it to lean over Ludwig's work. He pulled one of the papers towards himself, read it, then pushed the stack into the middle of the table. He pulled out a chair and sat down facing him. “Ludwig, please. You're too young for this. You need to understand what I'm saying.”

“I remember,” Ludwig laced his fingers together on the table. “I just... I can't. When I'm around them, it's all I can think about, their vision, their goals. They've my government, they know what they're doing...”

Gilbert reached out to cover his hands and squeezed. “I know. Trust me, I know. I've lived under so many governments, for so long. I'd take your place, but they don't trust me and you can't live without them.” 

“I don't know how to stop it.” Ludwig squeezed his eyes shut. “Forgetting what you tell me I have to remember to not... get lost.”

“You can feel the pain still, right? The ache in the edge of your mind. The dying and the sick and the fear. Not just your soldiers; your citizens, too, everyone German who grew up here, who lives here, who believes they're German.”

Ludwig nodded.

“They tell you it's for the best, but it's not. There's no cause for them to cause you pain like this.”

“Famine causes pain and it's not their fault. I hurt all the time before the war, with the... the inflation, and the weakness. We had nothing. It hurts less now, because they fixed that. I don't understand why this pain is so different to you.”

Gilbert closed his eyes and slipped out of his chair to fall to his knees at Ludwig's feet. “Listen to me! It's not the same. It's nowhere near the same. You can't save yourself from a famine by cutting off your arm. You can't fix a broken bone by cutting off your leg. You just can't. You just forget it was there, but you'll never forget what you lost to fix it. They tell you you will, but you won't. You never will. I'm sorry Ludwig, I'm so sorry...”

Ludwig cupped the back of his head and Gilbert dropped his face to Ludwig's knees, knowing he was crying and unable to stop.

“I don't want this,” Ludwig whispered. “I don't want to struggle like this; I just want things to get better. Why are they doing this?”

“It's war.” Gilbert sighed. “This is war, Ludwig. This is always the fortunes of wars of empire, ones you start.”

Ludwig swallowed audibly. “How do you survive?”

Gilbert reached up to cup his face and stared into his eyes. “You're fighting every day. And every day you know you might die. You have to know the stakes and you hold on, as hard as you can, and hope you can find your way back. I'm sorry Ludwig. You're too young for this.”

“Were you ever in a war like this?” Ludwig's voice was hoarse; Gilbert didn't think he knew he was crying too now.

“Not this young. Never this young. I haven't seen a war this bad since the Crusades.”

“But – you were right, weren't you? I mean, you're Catholic you had to believe...”

Gilbert cut him off. “No, Ludwig, I wasn't right. I never was.”

“Then how do I survive this?”

Gilbert closed his hand against his cheek and let it fall. “I don't know.”

Ludwig's face collapsed and he dropped to lean on the table, crying into his arms. “I don't want to disappoint you like this. It's just so hard to remember.”

Gilbert closed his eyes and stayed against him, not willing to let him go. “I know. Just don't give up,” he whispered. “Just please don't give up.”


End file.
